The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 339: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. she was entirely without @ suspicion that her| mind. Aa they were proceeding mother-in-law, ere taking her de , had in- stilled such venom into Edmund’s veins—or that a mine had been prepared, above which she was unconsciously to tread. She considered that the desperate warfare of plots and counterplots, dupli- cities and machinations, which had been waged between Kdmund'’s mother and herself, was now altogether at an end—that the former had been worsted—and that she therefore remained tri- umphant. We have already said that the very desperation of Edmund’s position, as he himself believed it to be, had served to endow him with a degree of {for- titude which astonished even himeelf: that is to say, @ particular kind of fortitude—the fortitude which enabled him to wear a mask upon his coun- tenance in the presence of his wife, without be- traying the secret thoughts and intents which were agitating within. Indeed, in this respect, his hypocrisy was now consummate; and as those who harbour treacherous intents, invariably assume some extreme feeling in order to veil them,—so was Edmund’s manner kinder and more affeetionate than ever towards Adelaide. She perceived this as they walked forth together—and naturally attri- buted it to satisfaction at his mother’s departure. “ Now, my dear Edmund,” said Adelaide, as she leant upon his arm, and gazed up with her wonted blandishment of look into his countenance,—“ at we are rid of that woman who sought to be such a terrible domestic tyrant. I hope you will mot be angry that I speak thus of your mother——” . “Angry P—no !”” ejaculated Edmund: “how ean I be angry, when for some time past I have Yooked upon her as my bitterest enemy ?” “ Well, she is gone at length,” observed Ade- aide: “in a few days she will quit England—let us hope never to return. So lang as she was here, X trembled for your safety, although I did my best é0 conceal my fears. You know not, dearest Ed. enund, how much I love you; and the heart which doves as fondly as mine, is y full of appre- bensions at the slightest chance of danger to the abject of such affection.” “And you do indeed love me as much as you way, my adored Adelaide P” asked Edmund, gasing upon her countenance, which never looked more beautifal than it did at this moment: for the €resh frosty air had heightened the colour upon her cheeks—and the eunny light of satisfaction and ¢riumph was dancing in her eyes. ° “Love you, Edmund? You know that I love you!” she murmured, modulating her tones so that the music of her voice, of the melody of which she was fully conscious, might sink down with rapturous sensations into the depths of his woul “Did I not love you from the very first amoment we met ?” “ Yes, yes—even as I loved you,” he answered : ‘but all the while he felt convinced in his own heart that every syllable she uttered, though glossed with honey, was nevertheless fraught with On issuing forth from the castle, he had not immediately conducted her near the river,—but through the park, into the fields—and with as air as if it were a matter of indifference which way he went; so that m nothing should his conduct encourage the slightest suspicion in her along a narrow lane, they heard the sounds of a horse's feet ap- proaching; and asa turn in the road almost im- mediately revealed the rider to their view, Ed- mund recognised Mr. Hawkshaw. It was a long time since the young nobleman hed seen the Gquire—never since he had last inhabited the castle some two or three years back, and when he might be described as a mere lad. He had not however sufficiently altered—and heaven knows had not so much improved in personal appearance —that Mr. Hawkshaw could fail to recognise him also. The recognition was therefore mutual: but while, on the one hand, Edmund saluted the Squire with a cordiality which might be as an overture of fri ip—the other returned his salutation with a id reserve. If Lord Saxondale had possessed the least degree af proper spirit, he would himself have demonstrated a studied coldness towards the individual who had so signally exposed his sister Juliana — notwith- standing that his sister was flagrantly and foully in the wrong. But Lord Saxondale had no such spirit: he had vanity and conecit—but no real pride, in its loftiest and noblest sense ;—and thus was it that, heedless of antecedent circumstances in respect to Hawkshaw and Juliana, he was now anxious enough to avail himself of the present opportunity to renew his acquaintance with one of the leading gentlemen of Lincolnshire. Mr. Hawkshaw instantaneously comprehended how Lord Saxondale ought to have treated him in revenge for his conduct towards Juliana; and therefore despised him for acting otherwise. He was urging his steod past,—when Saxondale, de- termined not to be thus almost “cut” by the Squire without an effort to amend matters, ad- vanced a pace or two—stretched forth his hand— and exclaimed, “ Well, Mr. Hawkahaw, it is some time since you and I met. I shall be very giad to seo you at the Castle——But porbaps you were going there to call P” “Na, my lord—I was not,” was the Squire's response, given with a marked emphasis ; although at the same time he suffered Edmund to grasp the tips of two of his fingers, as he did not wish to be too pointed in his conduct. “Tf you had been, we would have turned back with you,” said the young nobleman. “ Permit me to introduce you to Lady Saxondale ” But at that moment the Squire gave another cold and distant bow—colder and more distant than even the first; and galloped onward. “The unmannerly country bumpkin!” ejacu- lated Edmund, as Mr. Hawkshaw thus darted away upon his high-spirited De not ca yourself, my dearest husband,” eaid Adelaide, again resuming all her most fasci- nating wiles, and putting forth the most seductive witcheries which her charms were so well calcu lated to display. ‘What care we for the society of the world, when we are all in all to each other ?” “True, dearest Adelaide!” returned Edmund, scarcely able to keep beck an expression of bitter- ness from his countenance: for he thought thas Hawkshaw’s coldness was altogether on account of his wife, and not.at all on account of himeelf, nor of the family to which he belonged. - The lane new led into a wider road; and Ed- (COL __) __) a, A DOO CS (COL